The Last Olympian

arrow flew straight between her eyes and she vaporized on the spot, her empty armor clattering to the asphalt.
    Chiron reached for another arrow, but his quiver was empty. He dropped the bow and drew his sword. I knew he hated fighting with a sword. It was never his favorite weapon.
    Kronos chuckled. He advanced a step, and Chiron’s horse-half skittered nervously. His tail flicked back and forth.
    “You’re a teacher,” Kronos sneered. “Not a hero.”
    “Luke was a hero,” Chiron said. “He was a good one, until you corrupted him.”
    “FOOL!” Kronos’s voice shook the city. “You filled his head with empty promises. You said the gods cared about me!”
    “Me,” Chiron noticed. “You said me .”
    Kronos looked confused, and in that moment, Chiron struck. It was a good maneuver—a feint followed by a strike to the face. I couldn’t have done better myself, but Kronos was quick. He had all of Luke’s fighting skill, which was a lot. He knocked aside Chiron’s blade and yelled, “ BACK !”
    A blinding white light exploded between the Titan and the centaur. Chiron flew into the side of the building with such force the wall crumbled and collapsed on top of him.
    “No!” Annabeth wailed. The freezing spell broke. We ran toward our teacher, but there was no sign of him. Thalia and I pulled helplessly at the bricks while a ripple of ugly laughter ran through the Titan’s army.
    “YOU!” Annabeth turned on Luke. “To think that I . . . that I thought—”
    She drew her knife.
    “Annabeth, don’t.” I tried to take her arm, but she shook me off.
    She attacked Kronos, and his smug smile faded. Perhaps some part of Luke remembered that he used to like this girl, used to take care of her when she was little. She plunged her knife between the straps of his armor, right at his collarbone. The blade should’ve sunk into his chest. Instead it bounced off. Annabeth doubled over, clutching her arm to her stomach. The jolt might’ve been enough to dislocate her bad shoulder.
    I yanked her back as Kronos swung his scythe, slicing the air where she’d been standing.
    She fought me and screamed, “I HATE you!” I wasn’t sure who she was talking to—me or Luke or Kronos. Tears streaked the dust on her face.
    “I have to fight him,” I told her.
    “It’s my fight too, Percy!”
    Kronos laughed. “So much spirit. I can see why Luke wanted to spare you. Unfortunately, that won’t be possible.”
    He raised his scythe. I got ready to defend, but before Kronos could strike, a dog’s howl pierced the air somewhere behind the Titan’s army. “Arroooooooo!”
    It was too much to hope, but I called, “Mrs. O’Leary?”
    The enemy forces stirred uneasily. Then the strangest thing happened. They began to part, clearing a path through the street like something behind them was forcing them to.
    Soon there was a free aisle down the center of Fifth Avenue. Standing at the end of the block was my giant dog and a small figure in black armor.
    “Nico?” I called.
    “ROWWF!” Mrs. O’Leary bounded toward me, ignoring the growling monsters on either side. Nico strode forward. The enemy army fell back before him like he radiated death, which of course he did.
    Through the face guard of his skull-shaped helmet, he smiled. “Got your message. Is it too late to join the party?”
    “Son of Hades.” Kronos spit on the ground. “Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?”
    “Your death,” Nico said, “would be great for me.”
    “I’m immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live.”
    Nico drew his sword—three feet of wicked sharp Stygian iron, black as a nightmare. “I don’t agree.”
    The ground rumbled. Cracks appeared in the road, the sidewalks, the sides of the buildings. Skeletal hands grasped the air as the dead clawed their way into the world of the living. There were thousands of them, and as they emerged, the Titan’s monsters got jumpy and started to back up.
    “HOLD YOUR GROUND!” Kronos demanded. “The dead are no match for us.”
    The sky turned dark and cold. Shadows thickened. A harsh war horn sounded, and as the dead soldiers formed up ranks with their guns and swords and spears, an enormous chariot roared down Fifth Avenue. It came to a stop next to Nico. The horses were living shadows, fashioned from darkness. The chariot was inlaid with obsidian and gold, decorated with scenes of painful death. Holding the reins